


i've been alone with you inside my mind

by abovetheruins



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, Roleplay, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 06:17:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7833565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abovetheruins/pseuds/abovetheruins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which dreams really do come true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i've been alone with you inside my mind

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the following prompt on the cookleta kink meme:
> 
> "Cook wants to know when Archie first started to see him in a romantic/sexual light, assuming it was well into the course of Idol, when they had grown very close, and that the shift was something innocent and slow building for Archie at the start. He manages to drag out of his very embarrassed boyfriend that Archie, in fact, had a dream about Cook the night of his performance of Hello, when they barely knew each other at all; a far from innocent dream about Cook coming to Archie right after the show and telling him that he'd noticed how Archie had been looking at him, asking if Archie would like to do something about that and help Cook come down from his post performance high, ending in Archie either sucking Cook off or being fucked by him right there in the dressing room. Bonus if Cook is inspired to bring Archie's first dream about him to life with a reenactment of it the next time Archie is waiting in Cook's dressing room for him at one of his concerts"
> 
> I had a lot of fun with this one ;P Title from Lionel Richie’s Hello, of course.

“When did you know?”  
  
Archie glances up at him, fingers warm against Cook’s chest as they brush over his heart. “Hmm?” he hums, sleepy and content, his legs tangling with Cook’s beneath the blankets. “When did I know what?”  
  
Cook runs his palm over Archie’s back, curling his fingers over the rounded swell of his lover’s bare hip. Archie’s skin is slick and warm from their lovemaking, remnants of sweat and semen clinging to his inner thighs, and his legs part easily as Cook’s hand slips between them. “That you wanted me. Like this.”  
  
He feels Archie’s face warm against his chest, grins as he watches the soft flush of red travel down Archie’s neck. Even his _ears_ are red. Fucking adorable. “C’mon, baby. I’m _all_ ears.”  
  
“Um.” Archie mumbles something nonsensical, huffing out a breath as Cook brushes against his cock, soft and quiescent between his thighs.  
  
“Was it after Mike left?” Cook asks, taking pity on his squirming boyfriend. “When I started tagging around behind you all the time?” He’d been such a needy shit then, attaching himself to Archie’s hip like a limpet, never bothering to question his desire for the boy’s attention, even as that need began to overshadow the daily anxieties of the competition. “During the finale, maybe?” That’s when Cook had finally realized that the strange attachment he’d been nursing toward his runner-up was more than just brotherly, more than mere friendship. When he’d pulled Archie into his arms up on that stage and told him that he loved him, Cook had _meant_ it, with every fibre of his being and in every conceivable way.  
  
“Or... maybe during the tour?” After all, it was in the midst of those long, hot summer nights that they’d finally acted on their attraction for each other, sharing their first kiss in Archie’s bunk while the rest of the Idols slept unaware and the bus rolled onward into the night.  
  
At first Archie says nothing, just turns his face into Cook’s shoulder, gasping softly as Cook’s fingertips trail lightly over his cock. Still so responsive, so _eager_. It never fails to heat Cook’s blood, the way Archie reacts to his touch, how needy he becomes under the caress of Cook’s hands and mouth and body.  
  
“C’mon, Archie,” Cook coaxes, gentling his touch until there’s hardly any contact between their skin at all.  
  
Archie whimpers, his lips moving against Cook’s shoulder for a moment before Cook hears his voice, soft and raspy with arousal. “Top 16. When you… when you sang _Hello_? That’s when I, um.” He shrugs his shoulders, hips rolling shallowly against Cook’s, seeking friction.  
  
Cook wraps his hand around Archie’s thigh, stilling his hips. “Wait, really?” he asks, caught off guard by the unexpected confession. “Way back then?”  
  
Archie nods against his shoulder, squirming in Cook’s grip. The alluring sensation of his lover’s body writhing against his succeeds in distracting Cook for a moment, a familiar heat pooling low in his belly as Archie hitches his thigh over his own and reaches up to kiss him. Cook allows himself to fall into the heat of Archie’s lush mouth and gently swirling tongue for a moment, losing himself in the familiar intoxicating taste of his lover, until he realizes exactly what Archie is trying to do.  
  
“Mmm, nice distraction, sweetheart,” he murmurs between heated kisses, moving out of reach of Archie’s searching mouth before his boyfriend can pull him back in. “I can’t believe you had the hots for me way back then,” he says, grinning as Archie groans, less from arousal this time and more from annoyance that Cook hasn’t dropped this subject yet. “We barely even knew each other until Top 10, and there you were, apparently lusting after me. Was it the hair that did it for you, Arch?”  
  
“ _Cook_.” He can’t help but laugh at the look on Archie’s face, a blend of exasperation and annoyance that Cook has seen hundreds of times before, usually directed at himself. “It wasn’t… It was just... _Gosh_ , it was a _dream_ , okay?”  
  
Cook’s laughter dries up in his throat, brows rising incredulously as he repeats, “A dream?”  
  
“ _Yes_ ,” Archie slumps down onto his chest, sighing out a breath. “That night, after you sang, I had this… dream. Um. Of you.”  
  
Cook doesn’t have to ask what kind of dream it was. It’s clear in the heated flush across Archie’s face, the way the tips of his ears burn red and the way he carefully avoids Cook’s gaze.  
  
“Are you saying that you had a _sex_ dream about me, Archie?” Cook breathes, equally amused and turned on by the prospect. Archie’s silent nod is all the answer Cook needs. “ _Shit_ , seriously? What was it about?”  
  
“Cook, c’mon. Can’t we just forget about this and do… something else?” Archie grinds hopefully against him, his cock a hot brand against Cook’s thigh. Cook slips a hand between their bodies to appease his lover, curling his palm around Archie’s length.  
  
Archie sighs, closing his eyes as Cook begins to jack his cock, callused fingertips slipping over the slippery, swollen head, fingers wrapping around the sturdy base and pulling up the length with slow, practiced strokes.  
  
Cook watches the rapturous expression on Archie’s face, enjoying the feel of him, the slickness of his skin and the rasp of his voice as his blissful sighs fall into the heated space between them. Cook waits until Archie is lost to his pleasure, his hips pumping into Cook’s grip, before he tucks his face into the warm curve of Archie’s shoulder and asks him, “What was I doing in your dream, Arch?”  
  
Archie hums, curling his leg around Cook’s thigh and gripping his bicep. “Mmm, _Cook_ , c’mon – “  
  
“C’mon, Archie,” Cook returns, slowing his hand and smirking as Archie whines in displeasure. “Tell me, and I’ll – “ He rubs his thumb over Archie’s swollen cockhead, dragging the blunt edge of his nail lightly against the sensitive skin, and Archie _keens_.  
  
“You – you were… “ He sucks in a breath, tongue swiping over his lower lip. “You found me in a dressing room, after the show, a-and told me you’d noticed me watching you.”  
  
“Yeah?” Cook firms his touch, dragging his nail along Archie’s leaking slit in reward, and Archie’s breath leaves him in a hiss. “What else?”  
  
Archie’s grip around his bicep tightens, his fingers migrating to Cook’s hair and twisting within the strands as Cook continues to fist his cock. “You said that you were still worked up from the show. Y-you told me – _ah_ – I could help you.”  
  
Cook huffs out a breath, pulse pounding with arousal as he slides his free hand over the curve of Archie’s hip, gripping his ass and pulling him in close. “Did you, Archie?” he rasps, slotting their hips together, wrapping his hand around them both. Archie shudders against him, crying out as Cook begins to stroke their cocks in tandem, his voice a low rasp of desire as he breathes, “ _Yes_.”  
  
Cook noses along Archie’s pulse point, breathing hard as he gasps out, “What did you do, baby?” His grip turns slick as he smears their mingled pre-come down the length of their cocks, heat pooling low in his belly as Archie arches against him and moans. “Did you suck me? Get onto your knees for me right there in the dressing room?”  
  
Archie shakes his head, his thrusts shaky and uncoordinated as he chases his pleasure. His voice is hoarse and low when he speaks, his gaze sex-drunk and _wanting_ when he catches Cook’s eyes, and Cook feels a bolt of lust flare down the length of his spine as his boyfriend confesses, “I told you you could f-fuck me. I wanted you to fuck me.”  
  
“ _Fuck_.” Cook rears up with a broken moan, rolling Archie beneath him and wrapping his boyfriend’s legs around his hips, thrusting mindlessly as he pictures it perfectly, Archie begging to be fucked, hitching him up onto the dressing room table or bending him over it to give him exactly what he wants.  
  
It’s an image that stays with Cook long after they both reach completion, locked together and shuddering fiercely through their orgasms before they both fall, tangled and sweat-slick, to the rumpled sheets.  
  


//

  
Cook doesn’t mention Archie’s dream after that, though he thinks about it often, particularly after he heads out on a new leg of the Digital Vein tour. Every night that he finds himself in a new dressing room, waiting to go out on stage, his thoughts will return again and again to Archie’s breathy voice in his ear, telling him how he’d dreamed of Cook fucking him all those years ago.  
  
It _does_ something to him, the realization that Archie had been thinking of him in such a visceral way, such a _sexual_ way, that early during _Idol_. Back then it had taken months for Cook to finally wrap his head around the idea that he had fallen for his young competitor. To know, now, that Archie’s desire for him had been sparked back during the early days of the competition, sparked because of Cook’s _voice_ – it threw into sharp relief every one of their interactions, every moment that Cook had caught Archie’s eyes on him, every blush or lingering touch that Cook had always rationalized away as meaning something _else_ , something other than Archie possibly feeling more than friendship towards him.  
  
In his off time during the tour, he takes to relearning his arrangement of _Hello_ , the same arrangement he had played for the first time to an audience of millions, and then nearly every night during the summer of ’09. It comes back to him easily, the chords familiar beneath his fingers, almost like he’s reacquainting himself with an old friend.  
  
“Thinking of adding something new to the setlist?” Arms asks him during one such occasion, when Cook has taken to strumming the by now familiar notes on his acoustic while the bus rolls on into the night.  
  
Cook glances up from the strings, shooting his guitarist a sheepish grin. “It’s a surprise for Archie, actually,” he explains. Arms’ words cause a kernel of an idea to take root in his mind, however, and his grin morphs into something a little less innocent as he ponders the possibilities.  
  
Arms takes one look at his face and turns back to his phone. “You know what, I don’t even want to know.”  
  


//

  
The last show of the tour is in Nashville, close to home, and Archie clears his schedule so that he can make it last minute.  
  
Cook is ecstatic, not only because he loves having Archie there, but because, the moment he gets a good look at the venue, he realizes that tonight is the perfect night to put his plan into action.  
  
“He’s scheming, look out,” Andy warns the others, flopping onto the couch in what passes for their dressing room.  
  
“Don’t want to know,” Arms choruses from his place at the other end, not even bothering to glance up from his phone.  
  
“I won’t tell you then,” Cook says, half an eye on his own phone as he waits for Archie to arrive. “Just don’t mention anything to Archie when he gets here, okay?”  
  
“You’re not gonna bring him out on stage again, are you?” Adam pipes up, absentmindedly twirling his drumsticks.  
  
“Had a little something else in mind, actually,” Cook remarks distractedly, thumbing his phone open with a smile as Archie’s name pops up in his inbox; he answers Archie’s text ( _I’m here! :)_ ) with a quick, _Be right there_. “Thought about changing up the setlist for the encore tonight,” he continues, rising out of his chair and slipping his phone back into his pocket. “That is, if you guys don’t mind.”  
  
Arms glances up from his phone. “This have anything to do with that song you’ve been playing lately?”  
  
Cook can only grin. “Maybe.”  
  


//

  
He’s sweating beneath the hot stage lights, his leather jacket sticking uncomfortably to his chest and back, but nothing can wipe the smile from his face as he readies himself for his last encore of the night.  
  
Archie’s tucked away backstage; if Cook glances to the side he can see him, waiting just beyond view of the crowd. Cook had spotted him singing along more than once throughout the show, his eyes irresistibly drawn to his boyfriend time and time again, even as he lost himself in the music or bantered with the crowd.  
  
He had pressed a kiss to Archie’s startled mouth in-between exchanging one guitar for another, uncaring that Nick and the band were all cloistered around backstage to see it. Archie had pushed him back out to the stage and the crowd chanting his name with a flustered “ _Cook!_ ,” his voice bright with laughter even as he’d flushed at the public display.  
  
If Cook tries he can still feel Archie’s mouth clinging to his; in the end it serves as more incentive to go through with his plan, and he faces the audience with a heated sort of anticipation flooding through his veins.  
  
“I don’t know if you guys remember,” he says, grinning into the mic as he spares a sidelong look at his boyfriend, “but I was on this show a couple of years ago… “  
  
He gets a few enthusiastic wolf whistles and a smattering of applause for that; in his periphery he can see Archie ducking into the shadows, probably expecting Cook to announce his presence or try to coax him up on stage.  
  
Cook’s got something else in mind, though. “Alright, alright, so at least some of you are familiar.” He strums a few notes, glancing at his bandmates. They shoot him varying looks of exasperation and resignation, like they’d honestly imagined he wouldn’t go through with this. _Nonsense_. “Let’s see if you recognize this… “  
  
The opening notes are nearly second nature to him by now, and his lips curl into a grin as a few people in the audience scream in recognition.  
  
“ _I've been alone with you  
Inside my mind  
And in my dreams I've kissed your lips  
A thousand times_.”  
  
It’s just him and his guitar, the others bowing out for this one performance, and a hush falls over the crowd as he croons into the mic, “ _I sometimes see you pass outside my door. Hello? Is it me you're looking for?_ ”  
  
He glances at Archie at those titular words, and, if it weren’t for all the practice he’s had over the years of playing through distractions, he would surely have fumbled the moment he catches those familiar hazel eyes with his own. It’s not that he’s surprised to find his boyfriend gazing back at him; rather, it’s the intensity in his lover’s eyes that shocks him, the expression of _captivation_ plastered across Archie’s face as Cook continues to sing.  
  
 _Is this how you looked at me then?_ Cook can’t help but wonder. If he had looked that night while he stood on the _Idol_ stage, if he had sought out Archie’s gaze in the darkness, would he have seen Archie’s eyes fastened on him like this? _Devouring_ him like this?  
  
Cook’s heart pounds throughout the rest of his performance, his hands itching to drop his guitar and wrap around Archie instead, to watch those eyes flutter and close as Archie loses himself in their embrace, to bring fantasy to life, just as he’d planned.  
  
When he glances over after the last strains of his voice have faded, the screams of the crowd quickly rising to fill the silence, Archie has disappeared. Cook waves a distracted goodnight to the crowd, hardly aware of what he’s saying at all, and follows after his boyfriend.  
  
He finds Archie in the room that had served as their dressing room, sitting on the couch with his hands curled into fists over his knees. Cook immediately feels like an ass, thinking he’s inadvertently upset Archie or made him uncomfortable with his little stunt, until he moves closer and spots the noticeable bulge in Archie’s shorts, the way he’s pressing his thighs together and studiously avoiding Cook’s gaze.  
  
 _Not upset then_ , Cook thinks, smirking as he flicks the lock on the door and moves over to the couch, his thigh pressing against Archie’s as he sits down beside him.  
  
“Cook… “ Archie starts.  
  
“Saw you watching me out there, Archuleta,” Cook interrupts, tossing his arm casually over the couch behind Archie’s head. He cocks his lips in a grin, nudging Archie’s thigh with his own. “Like what you see?”  
  
Archie’s brows furrow in confusion. “Cook, what are you – ?”  
  
“Nothing wrong with appreciating the view, right?” Cook quickly interrupts. “Even if we _are_ competition.”  
  
He sees the moment realization dawns on Archie, the confusion dispersing from his face to be replaced with recognition, and, straight on its heels, a burst of red across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.  
  
“You – “ he starts, hesitating, and Cook holds his breath, unsure if Archie wants to play along with his game or not – “You were really, um, good out there, Cook.” He glances up at Cook from beneath his lashes, brushing his hand along Cook’s knee before withdrawing. Even through the denim, Cook’s skin _burns_. “I’m sure you’ll get through to the next round.”  
  
Cook’s entire body seems to sigh at those words and at the blissful anticipation written plain as day across Archie’s face. _He wants this_ , and Cook brushes his fingers against the swell of Archie’s shoulder, his arm curling fully around the younger man as that realization settles into his bones.  
  
“High praise, coming from someone as talented as you,” he says, his lips curling in a cocky smirk as Archie ducks his head. Cook wants to lean down and bite at the swell of one red ear, settles for walking his fingers up the arch of Archie’s throat and sinking his fingers into the boy’s hair.  
  
Archie breathes out shakily, pressing against Cook’s side. “That’s nice of you to say,” he murmurs, tilting his head into the soft caress of Cook’s fingers.  
  
“Just speaking the truth,” Cook returns softly, scratching his nails lightly across Archie’s scalp, remnants of adrenaline from the show mixing with a heated burst of arousal in his belly as Archie shivers at the touch.  
  
Archie studies him for a long moment. Cook is content to let his lover set the pace for this encounter, knowing this is more than a little out of Archie’s comfort zone, and so he settles back against the couch and waits for Archie to take the lead.  
  
He doesn’t have to wait long. “Cook? Is there a reason you followed me in here? Um, to my dressing room?”  
  
Cook suppresses a smile at the stumble. “You know how it is, Arch,” he says, reveling in the rasp of fabric as Archie’s thigh rubs against his own, the way the other man sinks easily into the cradle of his arm like he belongs there. “It’s hard to unwind after a performance like that. Hard to come down from that high on your own, you know?”  
  
Archie swallows. Cook watches the bob of his throat, distracted by the urge to set lips and teeth and tongue to that stretch of skin.  
  
Archie’s next words do little to help him curb that urge. In fact, they rip Cook’s self-restraint away entirely. “How can I help?”  
  


//

  
Time doesn’t afford them the luxury of taking things slow. Sooner or later the guys will come looking for them, not that Cook cares much about that little detail. Right now it’s taking all of his focus not to lose his goddamned mind as Archie sinks down onto his bare cock, releasing a throaty gasp against his ear as Cook’s fingers dig into his thighs.  
  
Cook’s fully clothed save the open zip of his jeans, the material pushed out of the way just enough so that he can sink unobstructed into the warmth of his lover’s body. Archie, on the other hand, is bare from the waist down, his jeans and underwear discarded on the floor beside his hastily kicked off shoes. There’s something deliciously erotic about seeing him like this, his checkered shirt unbuttoned and showing a hint of his collarbone and chest, the muscles in his thighs shivering as he raises himself up and then lowers back down into Cook’s lap, the length of his cock trapped between their bodies and leaving a damp spot on Cook’s shirt each time they brush together.  
  
His eyes are clenched shut, lips twisted as he struggles not to make too much noise. Every once in a while Cook can hear the thump of footsteps outside, knows that Archie would be mortified if anyone heard what they were doing in here. Their heavy pants and the slick clap of skin against skin is obvious enough, though Cook can’t help but miss the breathy gasps and low, trembling moans that Archie tends to give out during moments like this.  
  
Maybe that’s what leads him to wrap his palms, still slick with the remnants of the travel-sized lube he’d tucked into his pocket before taking to the stage, around Archie’s hips, yanking Archie down onto his cock and grinding up into the cradle of his groin with a roughness that sends Archie crying out against his shoulder, his hands gripping fistfuls of Cook’s jacket as he struggles to regain his composure.  
  
“ _Cook_.” His name is a garbled whine on Archie’s lips, his voice hoarse from trying to hold back. “O-oh, please, please – “  
  
Cook snaps his hips up, stuffing his hands up the back of Archie’s shirt, his fingers scrabbling at slick skin. Desire rages in his gut at the gritty want sound of Archie’s voice, high-pitched and breathy as he struggles to control himself, trying not to be loud enough that anyone passing by outside could hear.  
  
Soft, wet pressure against the arch of his neck has him biting out a curse, his mouth slackening as Archie’s lips trail along his throat, coupled with flashes of tongue and teeth and panting breath. Cook turns his head just in time to meet his lover’s mouth in a frantic, breathless kiss, dipping his tongue past Archie’s parted lips to tangle with his.  
  
Cook can feel Archie rolling his hips to meet each of his thrusts, curves his palms against the soft swell of Archie’s ass and trails his fingers down, in, brushing against the spot where they’re joined. A hoarse whimper bursts from his throat, feeling their flesh meeting again and again, and Archie pulls away from his mouth with a soft, ragged cry at the sound, pressing his forehead to Cook’s shoulder and wrapping his arms tight around Cook’s neck.  
  
“You feel – “ he whines, lips moving against Cook’s shoulder, harsh breath leaving a spot of damp heat on Cook’s jacket, “So good, Cook, oh gosh, please – “ He trails off with a muffled groan, and Cook turns his head to see a piece of his leather jacket gripped between Archie’s teeth, Archie’s eyes clenched shut as he sinks down, over and over again, onto Cook’s pulsing cock.  
  
Cook can almost _hear_ his restraint snapping in two at the sight; he rears up off the couch, Archie’s startled gasp drowned out by the blood _roaring_ through his veins as he turns, switching their positions so that Archie is splayed out on the couch, Cook kneeling over him.  
  
“Cook?” Archie rasps, his face flushing at the position, how exposed he is, but Cook barely hears him. He braces a knee on the cushion between Archie’s spread thighs, tilts his lover’s hips up, and fucks back inside with a throaty moan.  
  
Archie’s fingers scrabble at his shoulders, his head tilting back against the back of the couch as Cook fucks him. Archie’s mouth falls open on a gasping keen, his legs wrapping around Cook’s hips, so _warm_ even through the fabric of Cook’s jeans, and he’ll never get tired of this, being surrounded by Archie’s scent and voice and body, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that right here, with this man, is where he _belongs_. That regardless of how they started, whether it had happened in some dressing room during _Idol_ , or during a hot summer night on the tour that changed everything, they would have always, _always_ , wound up here, tangled together in every way that mattered, entwined in breath and heat and heart until it was impossible to tell them apart.  
  
And when Archie arches beneath him with a broken cry, pearly white strands of cum spurting from his pulsing cock, inner walls contracting as his orgasm crashes through him –  
  
– as Cook buries himself again and again in that slick, wet heat, panting Archie’s name against his lover’s throat and releasing inside him with a guttural cry –  
  
– as they slump against each other with twin sighs of exhausted relief, catching each other’s gaze with a shared sense of awe and amusement at what had just taken place, Cook feels one thing down to his core, down to his _bones_ –  
  
That no matter what path they could have taken, no matter what choices they could have made, eventually, inevitably, they would have found their way here.  
  
Together.


End file.
